The Kings and a Question of Love
by lizajay12
Summary: What is love? Why does Thorin love Thranduil? The elven king wants to know how much and why, and, as usual, once he gets his teeth into something, he won't let go. A new servant comes to work for Thorin. Will close contact with a handsome young man from Dale tempt Thorin from Thranduil's side and is the love between the two kings forever or will it end here?


**What is love? Why does Thorin love Thranduil? The elven king wants to know and, as usual, once he gets his teeth into something, he won't let go. A new servant comes to work for Thorin. Will close contact with a handsome young man from Dale tempt Thorin from Thranduil's side and is the love between the two kings forever or will it end here?**

.o00o.

The Kings and a Question of Love

Pt I

How Deep Is Your Love?

It was leaving day, the day on which Thranduil had to return to Mirkwood to do his kingly duties –when he would much rather stay with Thorin in Erebor. It was a beautiful early summer's day and they had been saying their goodbyes all morning in the walled garden. It was secluded there: they could lock the gate and be completely undisturbed. And so it was that they lay there naked on the grass in the warmth of the sun.

They should have been exhausted by now and yet they weren't. However, their love-making had become languorous and slow. Thorin lay on his side with the elven king tucked into his back, sleepily moving inside him with a still erect cock and reaching around to stroke the dwarf's similarly hardened length. Thranduil nuzzled his lover's neck and sighed: "I must go soon, you know." And then he gave a deeper thrust and wondered how he would manage to drag himself away.

"Don't go yet," murmured Thorin, moaning with pleasure. "The sun sets late tonight. Surely there's still plenty of time?"

"It's not you who has to ride for hours with a sore backside through those endless woods," laughed the elf.

"And it's not you," said Thorin sadly, "who has to remain behind, sitting through some endless council meeting – with an equally sore backside, let me add – wishing desperately that I were riding at your side."

Thranduil kissed a muscular shoulder and then bit down on it. The dwarven king growled deep in his throat and pushed his cock hard into his partner's hand, trying not to think of the lonely two weeks that stretched before them.

"Sometimes," continued the elf, "I wish we weren't kings but could spend every moment of every hour of our life together."

They lay silently, thrusting slowly against each other, contemplating this wonderful thought and thinking about their love for each other.

Finally, Thranduil nipped the dwarf's ear and murmured: "How much do you love me, Thorin? Tell me how much?" He wanted some kind of reassurance before he left but Thorin sighed inwardly. Such questions were always so difficult to answer.

"A lot," he finally said.

Of course, this was not enough for Thranduil.

"But, how _much_ , would you say?"

"Difficult to quantify," was the only response he got.

"Well, do you love me more than when you first met me? And is there still room to love me more in a year's time?"

"Don't know," was the short answer.

Thranduil couldn't let it go. "All right, then, he asked, trying to get a handle on things. "Do you love me more than Dwalin?"

"Of course I do. Dwalin's just a very dear friend."

"And do you love me more than Brangwyn?"

"Well, she's just another dear friend – and a woman. Lust doesn't come into it, like it does with you." And he tried to distract the elf by pushing forcefully backwards into his groin.

But Thranduil refused to be moved from the track he was on. "And do you think you might meet someone in the future whom you could love more than me?"

Thorin raised his voice in exasperation. "Who knows, Thranduil? I'm sure I won't, but, who knows?"

This was not the answer that the elf was looking for. Sometimes it is best to say what you know your partner wants you to say rather than being entirely honest. But, Thorin couldn't help but be honest: to be otherwise was a form of lying and it wasn't in his nature.

"And what about if I had black hair? Would you love me then? Or if I were short? Or if I were a man or a dwarf? Would you still love me then?"

"I don't know," snapped Thorin. "I just love _you_!"

Thranduil withdrew slowly from him. "Yes, I think I'd best be off," he said. And he went to the little brook that ran through the garden to wash himself before getting dressed. The dwarven king watched him in silence. What did his partner want from him? He still didn't understand the ways of elves – or perhaps he still didn't understand the ways of love. He just knew that his love for Thranduil burned fiercely like an inextinguishable fire within him and that he would be irreparably broken if the elven king ever left him. However, it never occurred to him to say such soppy, fulsome things because they somehow sounded rather false. He got up and dressed too.

They kissed each other and Thorin escorted Thranduil to the stables. "Well, goodbye, then," he said. And both felt unhappy with the tenor of their parting.

Thranduil rode over the bridge and out onto the plain, biting his lip. Thorin had given one wave and then had disappeared back into the palace. The elf pulled his horse to a halt and thought for a moment.

.o00o.

Pt II

New Faces

Six months earlier, they had had an argument about Thorin's grooming – or lack of it. Things were fine whilst Thranduil was there to keep an eye on him, either in Mirkwood or Erebor: Thranduil would trim and brush his hair and plait his braids for him and make sure that his shirts were sent down to the laundry the moment they were even slightly scruffy; but, when left to his own devices, Thorin tended to let things go. Years before, in exile in Ered Luin, Dis had made sure that the King in Waiting looked the part and, even on the Quest, surprisingly enough, the dwarfs had groomed each other, as was their tradition.

But, seeing his lover looking less than majestic with unkempt hair and grubby clothes, Thranduil began to complain as soon as he saw the dwarf after a two week absence.

"I'm not an elf, you know," grumbled Thorin. "We don't all fuss with ourselves like you do."

"I beg to differ," Thranduil had snapped. "Just look around you and see how much care your old companions and other dwarves put into their grooming – all those elaborate braids and hairstyles. They must spend hours in front of a mirror, whereas us elves, with only our long straight hair to manage, we simply wash and go."

In the end, Thorin did his best to look after himself better, but he found it a dreadful chore. And so, one day, the elven king surprised him when, after disappearing for an afternoon, he returned to Erebor with a man from Dale following in his wake.

"This is John," said Thranduil. "He is your new servant and he will help you when I am absent."

John was an elegant, middle-aged man with greying hair. He moved and spoke quietly like the very best of servants who seem to disappear into the background so that you hardly know they are there. He had been born in Dale but, as a young man, had moved away to Minas Tirith where he had trained to be a body servant to various wealthy lords who lived in that great city. He knew his stuff.

And, now he was back. As he had grown older, he had yearned to be with his family again. Thranduil had gone on the hunt for such as he and was thrilled when he had found him, as was John to be offered the post of servant to the king.

Much to his surprise, Thorin had got on remarkably well with John and John with him. Life ran much more smoothly with a personal servant to help him, even though this was not a thing that dwarves were used to. John looked after his hair and beard; his clothes disappeared to the laundry the minute the smallest grubby mark appeared and a clean set was always laid out for Thorin the next morning. On top of that, John had excellent secretarial skills and suddenly that pile of official letters became a lot easier to manage. And he was a decent, trustworthy man.

John found the king warm and obliging. They felt more like friends than master and servant and yet each of them knew where to draw the line as far as overfamiliarity was concerned. Best of all, he had a regular two weeks off and still got paid! Both were really content with their lot.

.o00o.

After that brief wave to Thranduil, Thorin returned in a bad temper to his apartment. John was waiting there and that helped.

"Perhaps a bath, sir?" he had suggested, guessing what the dwarf had been up to all morning. And, as Thorin climbed into the bathing pool, he grinned to think that the man had such an intimate knowledge of him – and that he didn't mind. It just made him a better servant.

John brought him a glass of wine as he lay there relaxing in the hot water and, slowly, all his irritations drained away. He stayed in the pool quite some time but, the moment that he stood up to get out, John was there with a large white towel which he wrapped around him. As he sat in front of a mirror and John sorted out his tangled locks, the servant suddenly said: "I would appreciate it, my lord, if I could have a word with you."

His sister was ill and since, among his many skills, he had a certain amount of medical knowledge, he wanted to look after her. "But, I shan't leave you to manage on your own, sir. I have been training my nephew for some time now and he can take my place, if this is what you wish. He is becoming quite adept but he would appreciate the experience."

Thorin was concerned for John's sister but he had got used to being looked after so efficiently and he readily nodded his agreement. So it was that, the following day, a new servant, Sebastian, appeared at his door.

Sebastian was tall and good-looking with a neat beard and blond hair tied back at the nape of his neck in a manly bun. Thorin felt uneasy straight away: it was one thing to have an older man who looked like a kindly uncle attending to one's personal needs but it was quite another if that body servant was young and very handsome. But, he didn't say anything because he knew how worried John was about his sister.

The first day went well as Sebastian got to know the apartment. He efficiently made refreshments, sorted out the clothes to be washed, worked his way through Thorin's wardrobe and organised his outfits according to colour and, finally, sat down with the dwarf to do some secretarial work. Thorin dictated whilst he wrote in a flowing hand.

As he wrote, his head bent conscientiously over the parchment, the dwarven king studied him. He admired the arch of his neck, his golden hair, the neat beard, the long, sensitive fingers. And when, later, he asked him to read out some letters, Thorin closed his eyes and found his voice calm and soothing.

When the dwarf had gone downstairs to the dining hall for his evening meal and a bit of carousing with his companions, he found that he was looking forward to returning to his rooms, knowing that they would not be empty but that he would find Sebastian there. He entered the apartment to find that the lamps had been turned down, a nightshirt had been laid out on the bed and that a pile of soft, white towels was set out by the bathing pool. And that's when things began to feel a bit uncomfortable again.

"Would you like a bath, sir?" Sebastian asked. Well, Thorin always had a bath in the evening before he went to bed. He really ought not to change his routine just because it meant that a strange young man would see him naked. He reminded himself that Sebastian was a body servant and, with a nod, he walked towards the bathing pool. Suddenly and unexpectedly – because this was not a task that John volunteered for – Sebastian was there in front of him, unbuttoning his shirt. Thorin felt vaguely embarrassed but said nothing. The young man obviously thought this was one of his duties and he didn't like to bat him away.

The back of Sebastian's fingers were cool as they slid inside the dwarven king's shirt, brushing his skin, and Thorin suddenly found himself thinking that it was rather a pleasant sensation. He was gently pushed down upon a chair and his boots were removed in a couple of swift movements. And then he was helped to his feet again, his belt and breeches were nimbly undone and, before he knew it, the dwarf found himself standing there naked. The young man's eyes seemed to rest a moment on his genitals and Thorin blushed a little but then he was quickly helped into the pool before he had time to think anything of it.

The king shut his eyes as he lay back against the marble rim. Why were things so different with Sebastian? The only reason must be because he was so very good-looking. But, it was more than that: although he admired his looks, he was also so very _aware_ of his new servant. He found himself watching him, his eyes following him around the room. He noticed his graceful movements. He idly wondered how long his hair was and wanted to whip off the binding that tied it in that rather attractive bun just to see how far his hair fell down his back. He guardedly stared at the well-formed lips, framed by the golden beard and wondered if they were as soft as his hands – and, yes, he had noticed how soft those hands were. He was neat and well turned out but those breeches were extremely tight and it was a pleasure to watch his slender backside move within them and to note the way that his crotch was nicely outlined. His cock looked quite large and it would be interesting to see if he were right.

Thorin mentally shook himself. Where on earth were these thoughts coming from? And he quickly finished soaping himself and rose up out of the pool. Of course, Sebastian was immediately at hand with a towel which he efficiently wrapped around Thorin's waist, those long, cool, elegant, beautiful fingers cleverly tucking it in and once more feeling so good against his king's skin. Then he picked up another and carefully began to wipe Thorin's torso dry. I shall have an erection soon if he doesn't stop, thought the dwarf.

"That will be enough," he said rather curtly, taking the towel from him before he could do any more damage. "I can put myself to bed." And this was said in case Sebastian had thought to help Thorin into his nightshirt because then he would see the effect that he was beginning to have on the dwarven king.

The young man looked quite hurt. "Well, if that will be all, sir." And he retired to his bed in the small room that had once been a large storage cupboard but which had been set up for John's convenience once he had started working in Erebor.

In days gone by, Thorin knew that a man servant would often sleep in a cot placed at the foot of his master's bed to guard him from all dangers. Well, he was very glad that this was no longer the practice. It was bad enough knowing that he would be in a neighbouring room. And it was a troubled Thorin that went into his bedroom and firmly shut the door behind him.

.o00o.

Pt III

What's Love Got To Do With It?

Well, Thorin had plenty of bad dreams that night, most of them involving him being naked. Usually, the embarrassing aspect of these dreams was that everyone else was fully clothed but, this time, only two other characters were involved – Thranduil and Sebastian – and they were completely naked too. The two eyed him with a predatory look – and then Thorin turned and fled – in slo-mo, of course. The dream was a recurrent one and he never actually saw who finally caught him because, as he was brought down, he would awake with a start. It was a relief when the sun came up and Sebastian brought him a cup of tea.

The first week passed quite quickly. It was good to have someone around the apartment and Thorin thought how brilliant Thranduil's idea about a personal servant had been. He never had to mope around the place on his own, or struggle with his clerical work, or make decisions about clothing or even fetch his own drinks.

But, although he liked having Sebastian around, he had to conclude that he liked it too much. He liked looking at him; he liked it when the young servant touched him; he liked the sound of his voice. And he found that he could go a whole day thinking about Sebastian and not Thranduil – not even for one single moment. It was making him feel a bit guilty because it was a sort of infidelity.

The second week began to pass smoothly too. Then Thorin realised with a jerk that he hadn't heard from Thranduil nor had he written to him either. The elf must still be in a grumpy mood, he sighed to himself, and he suppressed any guilty thoughts he might have about his own lack of care for his partner.

He came back to his apartment after breakfast one morning, rather looking forward to tackling the pile of official documents that was waiting for him. This was because he had discovered that Sebastian had quite an incisive brain. They would read the letters together and then they would have an enjoyable discussion about possible responses: politics had never seemed so exciting. He found the young man sitting cross-legged, out on the balcony, his sleeves rolled up and his master's boots, which he was polishing with gusto, lying across his aproned lap. Thorin fetched a drink and sat down to watch him: watching Sebastian was an increasing pleasure.

His servant was certainly going about the task with enthusiasm: his muscles flexed, there was a slight sheen of sweat on his forehead and the golden hairs on his forearms shone in a ray of sunshine. Thorin wanted to run the palm of his hand lightly over them and feel them tickling his skin. Sebastian glanced up briefly from his work and gave his king a shy smile. The dwarf grinned back.

"They look good enough," he said. "Go and fetch yourself a drink and join me."

They spent a delightful morning together, talking about Minas Tirith and Ered Luin. And then they sat, head to head over the pile of letters, having a very absorbing afternoon. The duties of kingship didn't seem half so bad after all and there were moments when Thorin felt as if he had known Sebastian for a long, long time.

On his way down to the dining hall that evening, Thorin popped into the treasury. Sebastian had worked so hard and had done such a good job that he deserved to be rewarded for his efforts before he left on the following day. The dwarf poked around for a bit until he found a beautiful jewel, hanging on a gold chain. This will do, he thought, and he thrust it in his pocket.

But, back in his apartment later that night, his servant wasn't in the main room, nor was he in the bedroom. Thorin took off his clothing and, tying a towel around his waist and clutching his gift, he set off for the pool room. Where was he hiding? But he was bound to turn up for his master's bath. The bathing pool was fed by a constant flow of water from a hot spring and was always ready for use. Thorin was half-expecting to find his servant waiting by the side of the pool for him but was surprised to find him actually _in_ the water: he was busily scrubbing the marble surround – at least that bit that emerged above the water line.

"Sorry, sir," he said, looking up with a flushed face – whether from effort or embarrassment, Thorin wasn't quite sure. "I didn't expect you back for at least another hour and I thought the pool was looking a little grubby." He hesitated. "Shall I get out?"

It was only then that Thorin realised that Sebastian was naked and that his clothing lay in a neat pile by the side of the pool.

Thorin nodded. He could see from the young man's expression that he expected the king to withdraw and allow him to tidy up and prepare for his bath. But, when he didn't, Sebastian slowly climbed up the steps that led out of the bath. He was like a golden river god, rising out of the water, thought the dwarven king. And he didn't move but blocked his way.

His servant stood, the water streaming off his beautiful body, only a foot away and gave the dwarf an enquiring look. Thorin stared his fill and then said softly: "I have a present for you." He held up the jewel and slowly draped it over Sebastian's neck. His fingers lingered and then ran down over his chest and nipples. The young man's hand suddenly slid behind his neck and pulled the king into a kiss. Thorin broke away, gasping: "Do you want this?" he asked.

"Yes," Sebastian answered. "I've been wanting this for the past two weeks."

.o00o.

Pt IV

Truth Will Out

His servant lay on the bed wearing nothing but the gold chain with its gem: it glittered seductively, resting on his breast. He was fully erect and Thorin knelt astride him, slowly oiling his own hardened cock. All his focus was on Sebastian and not one single thought of Thranduil crossed his mind. He wanted this person and he was going to have him. But, if his other self had been sitting by the side of the bed and watching, he would have been disgusted and he might even have wondered why he was behaving in such a fashion.

But, at the moment, all he could think of was a good, hard fuck. He bent down and pulled the tie from Sebastian's hair and it fell in a satisfyingly long, golden fall. Then he buried his face in his throat and sucked and bit him hard where his neck met his shoulder. The servant groaned and pulled him tightly into his body, wrapping his legs around his waist and Thorin penetrated him in one smooth action. It felt right and the ecstasy began to build inside him.

.o00o.

Well, it was more than one good fuck. And, when Thorin awoke the next morning, he reached for Sebastian, wondering if the young man was ready for yet another. But, he found only a cool, empty space. Perhaps he's having a bath, he thought, and he closed his eyes, waiting for his return.

Suddenly, a hand grabbed his hair and his eyes sprang open to find a furious Thranduil bending over him.

"You fucked him, didn't you? You fucked Sebastian? Deny it if you can!"

Thorin couldn't deny it and it was only then that the full awfulness of what he had done swept over him: he had betrayed Thranduil, his partner, the one he loved, with another man. The elven king would never forgive him and he would never forgive himself. It all felt very unreal, like one of his dreams.

The elven king dragged him up into a sitting position by his braids.

"And so my questions have been fully answered," he spat in Thorin's face. "It would appear that you can love someone other than me – whether he be elf or man or dwarf. You fucked him with as much enthusiasm as you ever fucked me! Where was your faithfulness last night? Where was I when you were screwing him?"

Thorin was distraught. His confusion seemed to suffocate him. Yes, why hadn't he thought of the elven king? Where was Thranduil when he was screwing Sebastian?

And then he suddenly noticed something and a red hot fury grew inside him as – very, very slowly - the penny dropped. He shook off Thranduil's hands with a violent shrug.

"Yes, where were you, I wonder? I'll tell you where! You were in this bed with me!"

Thranduil drew back with a snarl. Then there was a pause. "How did you guess?"

"The bite mark on your neck. I marked you last night. You have used the art of glamourie, haven't you? You do a brilliant job disguising your burned face with such magic and for the past two weeks, you have used it to become Sebastian: the beard, the body hair, the change of ear shape, the different face! How cruel you are to trick me like that!"

"It makes no difference," Thranduil yelled, storming around the room. "I wanted to see how unfaithful you would be, given half the chance. And you proved to me that a pretty face and body, made available to you in an intimate situation, was all you needed."

Thorin leaped from the bed and grabbed Thranduil by the throat, pushing him hard against the wall. "It was more than just a pretty face," he hissed. "I've seen plenty of those in my life and I haven't succumbed. I was attracted to Sebastian - I loved being with him – I loved him."

Thranduil's face fell. "You loved him. You loved him more than me," he whispered. "Didn't you think even once last night about our love for each other? Didn't you think once about _me_?"

Thorin threw the elven king from him in disgust and shouted: "You don't understand, do you? And, until this moment, I didn't understand either. You messed with my head! You were Sebastian and Sebastian was you! My body knew it! My heart knew it! And now you have your answer to your stupid question the other week. Yes, I would still love you whoever you were, whatever you looked like because I don't love your hair or your eyes or your ears or your cock – I Iove _you_ , you fool! And my heart would know you anywhere!"

Tears started in his eyes and he began to yank on his clothes. "But _you_ don't know _me_ , do you? You have got to have _proof_ of my love – and you are willing to risk everything we have in the proving of it! You even involve the faithful John in your trickery."

Thranduil slid down to the floor with his face in his hands. "It's true that his sister is ill," he whispered. "And I told him that I wanted to play a little joke on you. He's not guilty of any deceit - only me."

"And your deceit has cost you our relationship," growled Thorin and he marched to the door.

But Thranduil got there before him. He pressed his back against it and refused to let him through.

"You love me, Thorin," he cried. "You said it with your own mouth. It doesn't matter whether I am Thranduil or Sebastian or a downright deceitful fool, you still love me…..As I love you. Isn't that all that matters?"

Thorin stood glaring at him angrily and then he slowly bent his head forward and leaned his forehead against the elven king's heart. His lover wrapped his arms gently around him.

"You slay me, every time," sighed the dwarf. "What made me fall in love with one such as you?"

"I don't know," replied the elf. "But, I thank Eru every day that you did. Now, will you forgive me?"

"And will you forgive me for my act of unfaithfulness with Sebastian?" returned the dwarven king.

"Only if you promise to fuck me as thoroughly as you fucked him last night," smiled Thranduil.

Thorin looked up at him with a lop-sided grin. "I think that goes without saying."

"And don't you dare forget where you are and call me Sebastian," commanded the elf severely as he unbuttoned his true love's clothes with the sort of skill that he had acquired as a body servant over the past 14 days.

The dwarf pushed him back on the mattress and yanked off his breeches: "Serve you right if I do," he muttered sourly as he climbed on the bed and rolled on top of him.

.o00o.

 **Well, who do you feel more angry with? With Thranduil for playing such a dangerous game or with Thorin for being 'unfaithful' with Thranduil's alter ego? And did you guess what might be going on before Thorin did or did you feel confused that Thorin seemed willing to sleep with another man and give no thought to his love for Thranduil?**

 **If you want to read a couple of other stories that deal with the art of glamourie, then there are three:**

 _ **The Kings and the Rivals**_ **which moves on to** _ **Kings,**_ _ **Secrets and Lies**_ **.**

 **And these are connected with** _ **The Kings and the Terrible Secret**_ **.**

 **The story before this is** _ **The Kings and the Unexpected Child**_ **when Thranduil gets broody again.**

 **Thank you for reading and for giving me a reason to keep writing about these two.**


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